Learning to Love
by Chynacat32
Summary: "I knew coming to Japan was a bad idea. I wanted to avoid all of that complicated relationship stuff, but now he's ruining everything!" "Well sweetie, what's done is done. It's about time you let yourself learn to love."


_The empty courtyard held nothing but ancient memories for the two of them now. Both remained still, staring awkwardly across the cracked concrete and into the eyes of the other. Neither made a move. Then suddenly, his words shattered the looming silence._

_"Feels like it's been forever, doesn't it?"_

For a moment, I found myself lost in the sea of unfamiliar faces. Patches of black swamped my vision as swarms of mourners made their way through the chapel. Many went into hysterics as they reached the front pulpit, dropping to their knees and sobbing like a child. Others remained completely expressionless. I myself couldn't help but feel detached from the entire event. Why I'd been forced to show up at a stranger's funeral was still a mystery to me. Turning, I glanced over at my dad.

"Please tell me why we're here."

He'd at least made an attempt at looking nice, although he wasn't altogether too successful. His suit, the only one he owned, clung unflatteringly to his burly frame like ivy on a wall. Exhausted eyes never leaving the front of the church, he put a calloused hand on my shoulder and sighed. "Trust me on this one Melly. Wait a little longer and you'll understand." Without another word, he took a seat in one of the pews lining the back wall and gestured for me to join him.

We just sat there for an hour or two, watching visitors come and go. I flashed a curious glance at dad every now and again, but it was like he was too lost in a distant world to notice me. There were only a few stragglers left in the church when he stood abruptly, urging me to do the same. Together, we strode down the narrow center aisle, making our way towards an intricate memorial. As we got closer, it became clear to me why so many people had attended the service earlier. The recently deceased was somewhat of a local celebrit-a singer as well as a philanthropist. I had never met her myself, yet here I was standing over her ashes.

As my father stood in silence, I took a moment to more closely examine a photograph that seemed to be the focus of the display. The angelic figure it depicted managed to capture my immediate attention. Returning my gaze were two glassy eyes of the deepest green. They peered through me, as if judging my character while still maintaining a youthful, almost kind-hearted innocence. The corners of her delicate lips were turned upward into a lighthearted grin, the most genuine that I think I've ever seen. Yet, one part of this woman spoke louder to me than any other. Bright orange curls brushed past her shoulders and framed her thin, pale face. Despite her beauty, this woman was obviously sickly. There was no doubt in my mind that the picture had been taken in her last days of life.

"Cancer is what took her in the end." My dad muttered under his breath. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, and I was shocked to see a thin streams of tears slipping down his cheek. "After everything she went through, it was the damn cancer that killed her." The words came out with difficulty, each syllable dripping with anger. I was at a loss for words. My dad never cried. He never lost his cool. So why should he now? He ran one trembling hand through his gelled hair, the other settling into the pocket of his trousers.

"You always asked about your mother. Well, now you've found her."

Time stopped for a minute. My mind did its best to process the statement. "W-what? How?" I felt many things in that moment; confusion, curiosity. Sadness however, eluded me. I had never known the woman, so how could I bring myself to grieve for her?

"Her name was Hana. I met her high school. You could say we were sweethearts, but I honestly think I was the last thing on her mind. She was into her music." He let out a strained laugh. "No, that's an understatement. Music was her life; she couldn't go a minute without thinking about it. She enrolled in a private university with a renowned program shortly after graduation and I moved to be closer to her." There was an awkward silence as dad nervously scratched at his freshly-shaved neck. "Things got pretty, er, serious between the two of us. Next thing we know, you popped up. The situation became difficult.

"Your mother loved you, she was just overwhelmed. Raising a child is a commitment, not something that a college student can pull off. Asking her to drop out wasn't an option, so I started working part-time. For two years everything worked out well enough; I would watch you until her classes got out, then she'd do the same while I scraped together whatever odd jobs I could find. That was... before the tumor." His eyes were watery again. "Then-"

"I don't want to hear any more right now."

I didn't tell my dad that the woman in the picture didn't seem so pretty anymore- that I couldn't even look at her without seething. I just wanted the tears to stop. He peered over at me, his dark eyes peering into my own. I realized in that moment that I was absolutely nothing like my mother, and I hoped I never would be. Somehow, I think my father noticed my new resolve.

"Everything Hana did was for your own benefit." He sounded like a child making excuses for a transgression. His voice faded into the stillness. From his pocket, dad pulled out and uncorked a small silver flask, taking a deep swig. My breath got caught in my throat. He was drinking again. I **hated** when he drank.

"You know, she promised to come back when you were older." He dropped to the floor, landing flat on his bottom with his legs sprawled out in from of him. A bit of the flask's contents spilled onto the marble floor. Sip number two went down the hatch.

Trusting my first instinct, I crouched beside him and put a comforting hand on his back. I could smell the stench of fresh alcohol on his breath and held back the urge to gag. Cautiously, I used my free hand to twist the flask from my father's hand. He didn't put up a fight. "Hana kept her promise," I whispered, being respectful of my dad's delicate state, "She's home now. I appreciate you telling me about her."

In actuality, I wish he's kept his story to himself. I hadn't want to lie to my father, but sometimes, a lies are what help us escape the pain that the truth brings. Dad sniffed buried his head into my shoulder.

"There's more that I have to tell you." His words were muffled by the thick material of my hoodie. "Your mother left you something. Something that she felt she owed you."

"She did?" Both my surprise and curiosity were genuine.

Tilting his head upward, dad replied. "She gave you ticket to study abroad in Japan."


End file.
